Let the Circle Be Unbroken
by parttimeficwriter
Summary: Harry and Ruth find each other again but not everything is as it seems.
1. Chapter 1

**The title isn't mine it belongs to Mildred. D. Taylor. I'm just borrowing it. I don't own Harry or Ruth either - I wish I did.**

**Thanks for the beat Em :)**

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Harry sighs as he looks at the assortment of delegates in the conference room and asks himself what he is doing here. It's a question with many answers, none of which he particularly likes. He's officially here thanks to interference from the new DG. The man has only been in position for three months and he's managed to spend a large amount of that time sending Harry, and Section D, on a number of wild goose chases. This conference happens to be one of them. He supposes that he shouldn't complain; it's a few days away from the stress of London, and all he has to do is pretend to be interested in what is being said. There isn't even a specific target to be monitored; he's effectively spying on them all, and it's possibly one of the dullest assignments he has ever had. He wishes he'd sent someone else now but hadn't wanted to play into the DG's hands. Besides which, it's good for his officers to be without him for a few days. It'll help sever the ties for when he eventually gives in and walks away from it all, which, if the internal politics and back stabbing carries on much longer, will be sooner rather than later.

He pushes the thought away and raises his coffee cup to his lips, half listening to two of the delegates gossiping in rapid German. He rolls his eyes at their petty conversation and wonders if anyone else cares that the Russian delegate was seen leaving the French Ambassador's room. He certainly doesn't. It's the morning of the second day and he has already had more than enough. He is distracted from his thoughts by a slight commotion at the door. The contents of someone's briefcase have spilled over the floor and several people are helping to scoop up the files and papers that have scattered everywhere. He is about to turn away again when the man helping to retrieve the items stands and moves out of the way. A familiar brunette is stuffing things back inside the briefcase and muttering to herself as she does so. Harry can hardly believe his eyes but he knows from the hammering of his heart and the goosebumps that have broken out along his skin that it is her. Almost as if she knows someone is watching, she chooses that moment to look up. She looks as startled as he feels and he almost laughs out loud when she knocks the briefcase over again in her haste to stand up.

She's frozen to the spot as he takes a step towards her but her eyes are inviting and he has to quash the urge to sprint across the room and take her in his arms. He doubts anyone here knows who she really is but he won't do anything that might put her in danger. His path to her is blocked as one of the officials announces that it's time to start and asks that everyone takes their seats. They share a longing look and he's sure that Ruth mouths 'later' to him seconds before she is joined by a tall man. He gives an almost imperceptible nod and tries not to glare as the handsome stranger with her takes hold of her elbow and guides her to a seat on the other side of the room. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, or the situation, he sits back down and watches her over the rim of his coffee cup.

She is still as beautiful as he remembers. Her hair is slightly longer, and she's dressed more businesslike than he ever remembers seeing her, but her mannerisms are still the same. She still chews on her pen lid as she reads a document that has been handed to her. Her brow is creased in an achingly familiar way and he's amazed by how much he has missed something as simple as watching her from across a room. He can tell that she knows he is watching her. Her smile is barely suppressed as she fidgets in her chair and his eyes hold a mischievous twinkle when she dares a quick look in his direction. She's flustered when he doesn't look away, as he once would have done, and tries to cover it by reaching up with her left hand and nervously tucking her hair behind her ear. The gold of the ring on her wedding finger catches the light and suddenly he can't breathe. The man to her right has leant over to say something to her and Harry can feel the handle of the coffee cup digging into his fingers as his grip on it tightens.

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He spends the rest of the morning torturing himself by wondering if the man she is sat next to is her husband. He can't help his imagination running away with him and, by the time they have a break for coffee, he's pictured her and Mr Tall, Dark and Infuriatingly Handsome in far too many scenarios, none of which are good for his health or his sanity. He moves from his seat as quickly and unobtrusively as he can, determined to get some fresh air before he does something rash like marching over to her and demanding an explanation as to how she can have moved on, when he can't ever forget her. The morning air is cool and crisp and he's thankful that everyone else has stayed inside in the warmth. He's so lost in his gloomy thoughts that he doesn't hear her footsteps until it is too late and there is nowhere for him to retreat to.

"Hello Harry," she says, quietly, as she comes to a stop in front of him. He is leaning against the wall of the building and she notes that he's loosened his tie and opened his top button since escaping the conference, despite the cold.

"Ruth," her name escapes him in a rush and she hears the sadness in his voice.

"You're not happy to see me." He's not sure if it's a question or a statement and he's at a loss of how best to answer her.

"Of course I am," he assures her and gives what he hopes is a reassuring smile. "Just a little surprised is all."

"I wasn't expecting to see you either," she admits with a wobble in her voice and he realises that she is close to tears. Her hand reaches out to touch his forearm and they both momentarily close their eyes at the brief contact. "You're really here," she whispers and then starts to laugh a little hysterically as her tears spill down her cheeks.

He looks alarmed at her reaction and pulls her into his arms without a second thought. "Sssh, Ruth. It's ok, everything will be alright."

She allows his words and the feel of his strong arms around her sooth her before stuttering an apology and pulling out of his embrace. She wipes at her face furiously, trying to erase the tear tracks as she explains her actions. "Don't want people to wonder why I've been crying."

"No," he agrees, "I'd imagine your husband would be rather upset with me for making you cry."

Her hand stills and she looks into his sad brown eyes. "My husband?" she asks, totally confused.

He points to the ring on her left hand and suddenly she realises why he seems so sad. She's smiling at him and he wonders how she can look so beautiful when she's breaking his heart. He is taken completely by surprise as she closes the gap between them and leans up to kiss him. Her lips are soft and warm and she tastes just as sweet as he remembers. The kiss is brief but full of promise and when she releases him, her smile is still fully in place.

"I'm not married, Harry."

He wants to ask her what is going on but her handsome colleague chooses that moment to come and look for her. The conference is starting up again and she's needed to translate something. She shouts that she'll be there in a minute and looks at Harry apologetically. "I have to get back, Harry. Sorry. I can explain everything; meet me here at lunchtime."

He only has time to nod at her before she dashes off up the stairs and back inside. He stays in the fresh air a moment longer, his fingers absently stroking his lips as he thinks about the fact that she has just kissed him. He's whistling to himself as he walks back to the conference, suddenly it doesn't seem like such a bad place to be.

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**Reviews are appreciated and get the next chapter posted faster ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks Em :-)**

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The morning session feels like it has gone on forever, but Harry has kept himself occupied by watching her as she works. It's such an endearingly familiar sight that he almost believes that they are back on the Grid together. He makes sure to keep his attentions as discreet as he can, but he's aware that some of her colleagues have noticed him looking at her. He's been on the receiving end of a glare or two from the man who keeps touching her arm, but he's not as bothered by another man touching her as he thought he would be. He knows her too well and can see from her body language that she has no interest in the man sat next to her and, anyway, he can still feel the way her lips pressed against his as she kissed him soundly. He replays the kiss in his head and finds that the time passes quite quickly by doing so; he doesn't realise he is humming a nameless tune until his neighbour glares at him pointedly. As the conference finishes for lunch, he stands and watches her repack her briefcase. He'd like to go over and escort her out but doesn't. She asked him to meet her outside and he will always adhere to her wishes.

He lounges against the wall casually as he waits for her, and indulges in a little people watching. It has warmed up a little, but not much, and the men and women of Berlin are not lingering on the streets any longer than they have to. The winter sun may be bright, but it offers little warmth.

"No back up van or surveillance team?" she teases, as she arrives, and he smiles in response.

"Not today."

She is glad. There is so much she wants to say to him but she's aware that her nosey colleagues are lingering by the doors wondering who the handsome man she is with is. They've never seen her show interest in anything other than her work and they are intrigued as to how Harry has managed to capture her interest so instantly.

"Let's go somewhere we can talk," she suggests, and he is happy to accept. He follows her as she starts walking and they remain silent until there is a noticeable distance between them and the conference centre. Without realising it, they have headed for the river and stroll along the edge of the Spree, both silently reflecting that it's as close to the Embankment as they're going to get. They find a free bench and sit together like they have done so many times in the past, except this time the gap between them is noticeably smaller, their shoulders almost touching as they sit and watch the people to and fro along the riverbank.

"I've missed you so much," she whispers, eventually, breaking the silence that has settled over them. He angles his body towards her and she does the same until all they can see is each other and everything surrounding them is a blur. He watches her as she struggles to find the words to express what she wants to say, and she is grateful to him for not rushing her. "I'm sorry if I upset you, earlier," she begins, and his eyes follow her hands as she twiddles the ring around on her finger. "Truth is that I forget I'm wearing it most of the time."

He gives a slow nod of encouragement and she wonders why it is so difficult to tell him why she wears it. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again, Harry. You weren't ever going to find out, so I didn't see the harm...until now."

He can see she's starting to get upset again and is getting more confused by the minute. His hand covers her fidgeting ones and he waits until she lifts her eyes up to meet his. "Ruth, whatever it is, it can't be as bad as I imagined this morning. Please just tell me."

"It's part of my legend," she whispers, as if that explains everything. When he continues to stare at her, she realises he is going to make her spell it out to him. "My name now is Emily Roberts and she's a widow. It wasn't part of the original legend but I decided that it wouldn't matter if I altered it slightly, it was my life anyway. I spent the first ten days in France holed up in a small flat, trying to come to terms with everything. I realised that I was grieving, not for Ruth Evershed but for something wonderful that was never said. I went out and bought the ring the following day. I wanted, _needed_, something tangible to hold onto that would remind me of a man that was worth sacrificing everything for. It allowed me the freedom to grieve publically and gave me a valid reason to keep people at arm's length." She sighs heavily, "I'm a little embarrassed about it now that you're here."

"Don't be," his fingers squeeze her hand and the look of tenderness in his eyes is overwhelming. He's concerned as she shivers, "You're cold. Maybe we should head back?"

He is surprised to hear her chuckle. "Did you do anything but stare at me all morning?"

It's his turn to be embarrassed. "Not really. Why?"

"We're done for the day. Back tomorrow at 9," she watches as he digests the information and smiles at his sudden hesitancy to suggest another location. "Where are you staying?"

"The Crowne Plaza," he answers, his heart hammering in his chest as he lets himself wonder if she is suggesting they go back to his hotel.

"I bet it's warmer there than out here." She prays he'll pick up on her hint. She might be bold enough to kiss him and to tell him that she has missed him but she isn't quite bold enough to invite herself back to his hotel room.

He tries not to smile too widely as he agrees with her. "I think it will be."

He stands and offers her his hand which she graciously takes. They hold hands all the way back to his hotel, only letting go as they near his room. He fumbles nervously with the key before opening the door and inviting her inside. He hovers by the door as she looks around for somewhere to sit. Finally deciding on the sofa, she takes her coat off and sits down, waiting expectantly for him to join her.

"I don't bite," she jokes, lamely, as he still hesitates by the doorway.

"Sorry," he apologises, and heads towards the couch. "Drink?"

"Please."

He busies himself with grabbing some drinks from the mini bar. "Whisky ok?"

"Perfect," she replies and gratefully accepts the glass of amber fluid he proffers.

He sits beside her and tries not to let his thoughts run away with himself as he ponders what might happen next. He decides to let her dictate events and is content to just sit with her after so long apart.

She finishes her drink and takes a deep breath. "Harry?"

"Mmmm?" he answers, staring resolutely into the bottom of his glass.

"Take me to bed," she commands, softly, as if it is the most natural request in the world.

He looks at her and finds nothing but sincerity in her eyes. He reaches out and takes her glass from her hand, and sets it down on the table beside them. "Are you sure?"

She leans forward and presses her lips to his in lieu of answering. When he's sure she knows what she has asked of him, he shuffles forwards and kisses her more urgently. Her eager response is breathtaking and, seemingly without really knowing how, they stumble towards the bed, wrapped in each other's embrace.

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**More soon.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Unbeta'd so apologies for any mistakes.**

**This picks up right where we left off...**

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Her warm eyes are the first thing he sees as his eyelids flutter open. "Did I nod off?"

She gives him an adoring smile and reaches a hand up to caress the side of his face. "Only for a little while."

"Sorry," he murmurs as he pulls her closer to him. He realises that he must have drifted off to sleep as they lay on their sides, half entwined, and basking in the afterglow of their love making.

"Don't be," she whispers and gives him a cheeky smile, "I'm taking it as a compliment."

He is still chuckling as his lips find hers and he kisses her with a laziness that implies he is in no hurry to move any time soon.

"I love you."

The tenderness in her eyes is tinged with sadness as she reaches up to cup his cheek. "I could never tire of hearing that."

"Then let me tell you every day."

She knows he means it and knows that one of them needs to be realistic. "Harry- "

"I've been thinking about retiring," he cuts her off knowingly. He's fed up of living a life without her, a life with no meaning any more.

She closes her eyes, briefly, and tries not to get too carried away. There is only so much resistance she can give, she needs him, and now that he's here in her arms, and a life with him is within her reach she doesn't want to let him go. "W-where would you retire to?"

Her whispered question makes him smile and he leans in to steal a quick kiss before answering her. "To wherever you are."

She looks elated and concerned all at once. "I can't ask you to give up your life for me Harry. The service-"

"Will survive without me," he states firmly, "and you're not asking me to. I'm volunteering."

She still can't quite believe that he's prepared to give everything up for _her_. This is the second time he has been willing to do it and the knowledge makes her light headed. "You might change your mind when I tell you where I live," she says, quietly, and he eyes her suspiciously.

"You moved to America, didn't you?" he asks when she isn't forthcoming and she can hear the barely concealed distaste in his voice.

"It's not that bad, Harry!" she protests and gives him a prod in the chest for good measure. He captures her small hand in his larger one and holds it tight against his chest.

"I want to be wherever you are," he tells her, seriously, and the longing in his eyes is almost too much.

"I want that too."

"That's settled then," he tells her. His smile is beautiful to her and she realises that she has never seen him look as happy, or alive, as he does right now. She doesn't want to detract from his happiness, or hers, but there are things to think about.

"Harry, if you retire, won't they still keep tabs on you?"

He knows she's worried he might lead them to her door and can tell without asking that she doesn't want to have to give up her life again. He doesn't blame her for that. "Probably," he admits and she lowers her eyes to stop him from seeing the tears that are clouding her vision all of a sudden. "I think," he says, carefully, "that it's time to retire Harry altogether."

He watches her slowly raise her eyes to meet his and knows from the look on her face that she understands what he is saying. "But, what about-"

"I don't want you to worry about any of that. I'll sort everything out and, when the time is right, I'll come and find you," he seals his pledge with a kiss and the intensity of it makes her head spin. The need to kiss and touch each other until they are one entity is overwhelming and they both willingly give into their desire.

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The rest of the afternoon is spent curled together in bed. Sometimes dozing, sometimes talking and laughing, but always in each other's arms. Neither one willing to let go after so long of silently wishing, and hoping, that this day would come.

Their goodbyes are said in the half-light of the dawn. There is an air of sadness at having to part again so soon but it is nothing in comparison to the last time they said farewell. He's heading back to London as soon as the conference is over and she has to catch a flight back to Boston and her pretend life. She wishes that they didn't both have jobs to do, she'd like nothing more than to stay here, in this hotel room, with him, and hide from the rest of the world. The tears are staining her cheeks before she can stop them and she hates that she is crying instead of enjoying her last few moments with him.

"Please don't cry sweetheart," he murmurs, gently, as he brushes a tear away with his thumb. "It won't be forever. I promise I'll be with you as soon as I can."

She nods and tries to stifle the sob that threatens to escape from her throat.

He pulls her firmly against him and buries his face in her hair. "You do believe me don't you?" he asks, an evident tremor in his voice.

"Yes. I just don't want to leave you again," she mumbles, half into his chest, and he has to strain to hear it.

"I know you don't, but I'll still be with you," he reaches for her hand and lifts it to his mouth, placing a solitary kiss on the wedding ring that she has worn since the first time she had to leave him. "We can buy matching ones soon."

He kisses her before she can make any reply, and when he releases her lips his words make her laugh and cry at the same time. "Please don't say anything. Just leave it as something that was never said..."

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The reminder of that wonderful afternoon is what keeps her going for the next four and a half months. His promises still echo in her head and she clings tightly to the knowledge that he has never willingly let her down before. She's scanned the faces of people she passes on her way to work every day since she returned from Berlin only to be disappointed that he's not amongst the crowds. She's convinced that one day she'll walk out of her front door to find him stood across the street; watching, waiting, for her. She just has to be patient.

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Her work is what keeps her going. It always has been really. For as long as she can remember she has immersed herself in work, allowing her the illusion that she has a purpose, a direction in life. She has always worked longer hours than most people, and now is no different. It is just past eight o'clock as she flicks her desk lamp off, wraps herself in her thick coat, and heads for the door. She's too busy fishing in her handbag for her car keys to notice the lone figure watching her every move, but as she wins the battle with her handbag she raises her head and stops in her tracks. There is a brief moment where she doesn't believe her eyes and tells herself that it is her mind playing tricks on her, but then he moves and steps into a pool of street light and she can see the soft, inviting, smile on his face. He is really there, waiting for her, and she drinks the sight of him in. They are only a few steps apart and she knows that when she closes that distance, she won't ever have to be apart from him again. One foot moves in front of the other and she counts the steps to give her something to focus on other than the pounding of her heart. Fifteen steps are all it takes. Fifteen small steps, and she is in front of him, looking into his warm, familiar, eyes.

He reaches out and brushes a tear from her cheek. "I hate making you cry." She smiles at that and whispers an apology. "I only want to make you happy from now on, Ruth."

"Then kiss me and tell me you'll never leave me," she commands, softly, and she can see the delight in his eyes as he guides her mouth to his and captures her lips in a brief, sensuous, kiss. His lips linger on hers and she can feel the tickle of his voice as he murmurs, "I'll never leave you."

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